


Auburn Initiation

by Jellyfish_Tacos, MalwareFighter



Category: Original Work
Genre: Battlefield, Blood and Gore, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Final Battle, Goodbyes, Hair Brushing, Historical, Historical References, Insanity, Light Sadism, Long Hair, M/M, Men Crying, Middle Ages, Mild Gore, Mild Sexual Content, Narcissism, One-Sided Attraction, Palm Reading, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Princes & Princesses, Romance, Royalty, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Slow Dancing, Swordfighting, Tarot, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-06-22 23:45:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15593457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellyfish_Tacos/pseuds/Jellyfish_Tacos, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalwareFighter/pseuds/MalwareFighter
Summary: After Rowan, a former slave from a small medieval village is granted his freedom by a new master, he decides to live his life to the fullest. Little does he know that this freedom is only limited. After the cruel, cold hearted death of his mother, the little prince Euphores, a sweet and happy child, changes into a heartless and vain human being. Once the prince has turned 18 years old, his desire for dominance and power grows. He wishes for a lovely bedmate from the slave market.





	1. A Golden Tragedy

A soft, high pitched voice echoed around the lavish room as the young prince opened his eyes. He squeezed them, in order to keep the utterly bright sunlight out of the green emeralds that were his eyes and sat up, smiling a golden smile at his mother that was ten times brighter than the sunlight. "Good morning, mother." He answered, and gaped.

"Good morning, Euphores." She replied merrily, enjoying the sight of her son's priceless smile. "Have you slept well?"

Euphores nodded cheerfully, causing his thick, half-long, golden braid to slip over his shoulder. "I have dreamed a wonderful dream, mother. You were in it as well!" He spoke unpleasantly loudly (the prince's mother had just woken up as well) and hugged the queen steadfastly. He swung his legs over the edge of his enormous bed so his feet touched the soft bristles of the carpet on the floor. His mother laughed quietly and took her son's hand, leading him towards her own bedroom. "Tell me all about it while I brush your hair, darling."

The queen's bedroom was wonderful. The walls were decorated with the most beautiful paintings and the ceiling was detailed with a delicate, dark golden frame. A huge, excessive bed was placed in the middle of the room and a snow white dressing table was placed against the wall, it's color matching with the colors of the cushions and blankets on the bed. Little Euphores took place on the wooden stool in front of the dressing table, and his mom almost automatically reached for the brush inside the drawer. "Go ahead, honey. Tell me about your dream." She spoke softly, her delicate fingers unbraiding the prince's soft locks with care.

"We went to a field. Halewyn and Isidor went with us. It was a field full of flowers. All sorts of flowers! Most of them were poppies, and I also noticed there weren't any dandelions. The sky was blue, and I could even smell the scent of the flowers, mother!" Began Euphores happily, his mother beaming behind him. Her son had always been a little ray of sunshine. A ray of sunshine that no single cloud could hold back from shining, no matter how loudly his father yelled into his tiny ears or how many times he insulted him using the harshest words. The prince did his name justice. "And we all started running and laughing, oh so loudly. You took Halewyn's hand, mother. And I took Isidor's and we just kept running. We had so much fun."

"That's wonderful to hear." Said the queen in her typically calm but yet contented way. She brushed her son's golden tresses into his face to part it in the middle, and he giggled quietly, blowing the strands out of the way. Euphores was a pretty boy. His beauty was the second one of the gifts he had received from his mother after his birth, his happy personality being the first one. He had breathtaking, green eyes that resembled the color of the limes that grew in his beloved mother's backyard, a small, pointy nose and perfectly shaped, petal pink lips that didn't even appear dry after a whole day of walking in the sun or the cold. His hair was pure golden of color, a perfect combination of light brown and blonde and reached his back in soft, thick tresses.

"Don't you mind that I have fallen in love with Halewyn, Euphores?" The queen asked with a sound of concern in her voice and met her son's eyes in the mirror. "Of course I don't, mother." Replied the prince softly, slowly turning around to pull his mother closer. "He's a nice person. He's a nicer person than father..." Euphores took his mother's soft hand and clutched his tiny fist around her fingers. "And at least, he loves you. You deserve to be loved."

A half smile appeared on the queen's face, but her eyes were filled with deep sorrow. "Sometimes I feel so sorry for you." She began, warping her arms around the prince's small frame, hugging him close to her warm, safe body. "Sometimes I wish I wouldn't have been born like this. That I wouldn't have royal blood..." Tears welled up in her blue-green eyes and she bit her lip to prevent herself from sobbing. A woman like her shouldn't show her emotions. "So I could have chosen whom I wanted to marry myself."

"But you found someone new now. So don't be sad." Spoke Euphores. He reached up and gently dried his mother's rapidly falling tears, placing a soft kiss on her hand. "Will you take me with you if you move in with Halewyn?"

"It's not that easy, honeybee..." His mother said sadly. "If your father finds out, he'll be enraged." She sounded scared. Even thinking of the king's reaction to her new love sent shivers up the queen's spine. "But if I will move in with him one day, I will definitely take you with me."

Euphores stayed silent for the rest of the time. He wanted to ask his mother why it wouldn't be easy. He wanted to know why his father would be enraged too. If the queen hadn't chosen to marry his father herself, the king hadn't wanted to marry her either, right? Some nights, when the prince was trying to fall asleep, he would hear the terrifying fights between his mother and his father in the room beneath his own. Those nights, Isidor, Halewyn's 15-year-old nephew, would sneak around the hallways to visit Euphores room and calm him down. He would hug him close to his body in silence to shield him from the noise, Euphores softly crying into the fabric of his friend's tunic as Isidor's long, dark hair draped over the prince's back, spilling everywhere like a cascade. Euphores could easily recall the sound of the queen's beautiful vases and mirrors being shattered, the sounds of her heart-wrenching sobs echoing around the dining room. He didn't want to recall those sounds. They made him feel scared.

His father had once hurt him too. It had been that one day, half a year ago, when his mother had just braided his hair before dinner time. She had left Euphores in the room because she had to greet the guests downstairs, and the little prince had decided to take a look in his mother's closet. It was filled with the most wonderful jewelry, lavish dresses of expensive satin and velvet and shoes in all kinds of colors. Underneath all the clothing was a box. Being the curious boy he was, the prince opened the box and found a collection of smaller dresses. He figured they had been his mother's when she had been a child herself, or maybe his aunt's or niece's old dresses. His eye fell on one dress. A dark blue one, decorated with fine lace and golden embroidery. It reminded him of the night sky and the shining, golden stars that sung him goodnight every evening in the lullabies his mother sang to him. And it seemed like it would fit him.

A couple of minutes later, the prince admired his own reflection in the golden mirror next to his mother's closet. He loved the way he looked and hardly even realized that other people might find it strange that a boy wore a dress. Happy and confidently, Euphores made his way through the long hallways and corridors that led to the staircase above the dining room. The dress' edge slid over the floor and the sound reminded him of the ocean. The sound of the way the water sounded as it glided over the shoreline, back and forth. The fabric felt heavy and warm. Different than the thin satin most of his trousers, shirts and blouses were made of. It felt better.

Silently, Euphores walked down the stairs, arriving in the dining room where a large group of people awaited him in silence. Some of them started laughing out loud, others giggled softly. Some women that sat close to his mother looked at him lovingly, others easily seemed embarrassed for him. But one pair of dark green eyes at the head of the table terrified him. They shined in an almost devilish way, pure rage visible in the eyes that had never looked at him in an affectionate way. The king slammed his wrists against the oak wooden table, causing some of the guests to flinch. Euphores' mother immediately stood up and ran towards her son, warping her arms around him in a protective way. The king came closer, his hands clutched into fists.

"What is this, son?" He asked loudly, staring the prince into his widened, almost teary eyes.

"It's a dress, father. I found it in mother's closet." He managed to bring out, softly, even though it was almost impossible to be heard. The prince's small body trembled in fear. The sounds he didn't want to recall, those shattering mirrors and vases, echoed through his head. They screamed. His father pushed his mother away with force and grabbed his son's thin arm, holding it so tightly that it caused Euphores to grimace.

"Boys don't wear dresses, Euphores." He spoke calmly but with an undertone as sharp as a knife. "And you should have known that by now."

The king's strong hand hit the prince's face three times and then pushed him away. Euphores body slammed against the stone cold floor before his mother's arms were warped around him again. He cried quietly, his warm tears rolling down his cheeks as the queen placed kisses into his hair, her soft hands caressing his back as he sobbed in silence.

And now, half a year later, things hadn't changed. His father still fought with his mother, he still seemed to hate his son and still didn't allow him to wear dresses. Euphores wondered why his mother hadn't just told his father that she had found someone new, someone she did love and wanted to share her life with. They fought on a daily basis already, so another thing to fight about before moving to Halewyn's castle wouldn't hurt either, right? But maybe, it wasn't that easy. Maybe there was something he didn't know about. Something he might didn't even want to know about.

"Shall we leave now, darling? Your father will not be amused if we arrive late."

The prince nodded and jumped off the stool, quickly dressing up before leaving his mother's bedroom. He lived an overall happy life, he had to admit that. He was used to getting everything he asked for in an instant and was loved by every single maid and servant in the palace. It was a shame that his father lived here instead of a generous and sweet person like Halewyn, of course it was. But if that was the only negative influence in his life, the prince could still call himself extremely happy and lucky.

After finishing their breakfast, which had been delightful as always, the prince and his mother got up and left the dining room rapidly, without making a sound. They made their way through the long, long corridors and huge hallways. Euphores had always loved to inspect the expensive paintings on the walls. Many of the queen's maids had been given the chance to study arts and history, because his mother loved to have some company who enjoyed talking about the same, interesting subjects as she did. One of those maids, Elena, the queen's head maid, had taken the prince by one of his tiny hands, leading him through the hallways, teaching him about the fascinating pieces of art that stared down at him. Many of them were old members of the royal family, others were simply rich people that the royal family used to have a connection with in the past. The maids told him about the colors and the way they had been used. About perspective and the effect of depth, the use of proportions and pointed out funny mistakes the artists had made.

Euphores noticed that almost all the paintings included some elements from the Bible, such as crosses, certain numbers or positions the people portrayed in the background had been given. He had learned how to read it at an early age, knew almost all his basic prayers and knew how to roughly summarize what the story was about. Yet, no matter how wise he might be for someone of his age, he was too young to understand the symbolical and spiritual meaning behind any kind of faith.

The queen and the prince arrived at the stables after what had seemed like an eternity. The queen handed the prince the leather reins, the saddle and the stirrup, and Euphores immediately ran towards his pony Adeleine, that stood somewhere behind his parents' black and white horses. The prince began softly caressing her light brown back and head with the palm of is hand. He loved Adeleine almost as much as he loved his mother. The pony had been with him for two years, and together, they had traveled to the most astonishing destinations. It hurt him somehow to realize that once he'd be a teenager, he'd be too old and heavy to ride Adeleine and would have to trade her in for an adult horse. He doubted if he'd ever be able to love that horse as much as he had loved his precious pony...

Euphores looked up to his mother. She looked like an angel, sitting on her white horse, dressed in her snow white, lacey gown. Her long, light-golden locks surrounded her like a thick cape which the sun lit up with its light. The prince aspired to look like her one day. So beautiful and sweet and yet so strong and powerful. He had the greatest respect for his mother.

With care, the prince led his pony out of the stables to the courtyard, his mother following him soundlessly. Whenever the prince was about to leave the palace, a feeling of inner peace took over his mind and body. "Where would you like to go today?" The queen asked her son joyfully. "Maybe, to the forest?" She suggested. "I know there's a beautiful flower field near the lake. Would you like to relive your dream?"

The prince nodded and mounted his pony.

The ride to the flower field hadn't been thrilling. Yet, the way the light shining through the multicolored leaves and the flower petals fascinated Euphores. It reminded him of the way the marble stone floor of the palace looked when the bright sunlight shined through the stained glass windows that lined walls of the enormous dining room at home. Home... The prince couldn't call the palace his home. He realized he had lived in the lovely building ever since he had been a baby, but there was something about the vibe the palace gave off that withheld him from being able to call the castle his home. He missed the feeling of coziness and safety. He had heard many stories from Isidor about Halewyn's castle behind the 4 hills and was sure that he would be able to call that place his home. He could easily imagine a scene of the four of them in front of the fireplace, drinking a tasty, warm beverage on a quiet, cold winter night. Once, that image would be more than an illusion, the prince told himself. Once...

Once, Halewyn would be his father instead of the ice cold man at home. Once, he'd be a son with parents instead of a son with a mother. A family was all Euphores wished for. A safe haven for him and his mother, where they could rule their kingdom in peace surrounded by lovely people.

"We're almost there, sweetheart." The queen's soft voice seemed like an instrument of the orchestra of nature. It effortlessly played a song with the sound of the leaves and the wind, just like her hair played with the sunlight. In the distance, the prince could see the flower field. It lined the horizon, like a midsummer sunrise on a chilly morning in June, it's dazzling colors welcoming the royal duo to their safe paradise. No one would find them here, not even the king's army of guards.

A butterfly landed on the small tip of Euphores' nose, causing him to giggle quietly. He bent forward to carefully place a kiss on Adeleine's head and then swung his right leg over the saddle in a swift movement. Just a couple of seconds later, the soles of Euphores' boots touched the bice green grass beneath him. It hadn't recently been mowed, but he could still smell the scent of summer, sending a feeling of euphoria through his body that felt ten times stronger than petrichor. Everywhere he looked were colorful flowers and green grass. The clouds above him were enormous and incredibly fluffy, contrasting sharply with the aquamarine sky, just like in his dream.

Without saying a word, the prince decided to take flight. He ran so fast that it felt like his body would soon fall off his legs and spread his arms widely, not even the wind being able to hold him back. The worried calls of his mother in the background had turned into laughter by now as she looked at her beloved son's face. The happy, priceless expression was something she cherished with all her heart. Her thin fingers touched a blood red, poppy's petal, and a buzzing bee, covered in pollen, slowly flew away as if the queen had bothered it when eating his dinner. She couldn't help but smile in silence.

For hours and hours, Euphores kept running and playing. His mom just watched him, there was nothing else she wanted to do. What if her first son had been here too? He would have been 17 years old by now. A strong, young man getting ready to take over his father's crown and title soon. Making himself up to rule a prosperous kingdom. The queen had been a minor when little Lucien had been born. She could easily recall the sleepless nights and mental breakdowns she had been through during her pregnancy. Her belly had only swollen a little in 7 months time. She prayed to God for it to be the flu or some other disease that affects the stomach, but two months later, after nine full months of living in fear of the truth, she had given birth to her first son. He was healthy and strong, which took some of the young queen's worries away, but still, she was insanely anxious about her future. She was 16 years old and had never had a younger sibling to care for.

Maybe, no matter how horrible and harsh it might sound, it had been better for the child and to be stolen from her in such a barbaric way. The child had been pulled out of her arms with force. She had loved her baby more than anything, no matter how scared she might be of not being able to raise him like any other mother would. She never wanted to lose him to a bunch of unknown peasants in the woods.

"Mother, aren't you feeling well? You're so pale." A soft voice asked, and the queen looked up to face the prince. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she nodded immediately. "Yes, sweetheart. Everything is fine." She paused for a couple of seconds. She couldn't keep this a secret for the rest of her life. Euphores had to know.

"Have I..." The queen broke the silence with a sound of pain in her voice. "Have I ever told you about your brother, Euphores?" She asked quietly and looked into the distance. It almost felt like she hadn't been allowed to ask him this question. It felt like she had just opened Pandora's box and had granted the world its sins and sorrow, knowing this would have consequences but unable to hold in the secret any longer because it burned inside of her. Because it hurt.

The prince shook his head. "You haven't, mother." He sat a little closer to her, his small fingers reaching out for her warm hand. "I don't have a brother."

"You do, honeybee..." She spoke, her voice still so small and reticent. "But I don't know where he is. He was stolen from me."

-

That night, Euphores could hear his mother's screams again. They were louder than ever. Heartbreaking. The prince cried. The queen's cries seemed to strangle him. The prince wondered if this fight had anything to do with him finding out the truth about his older brother or the fact that they had sneaked out to the flower field earlier that day. Would his father get so mad over

The following morning, Elena, the young maid that had always taught him about the paintings in the hallways stood in the doorway. Her naturally happy expression had been replaced with a fearful look, her pretty hands shaking badly.

"Prince, your father would like you to come downstairs, to the gardens." The maid spoke softly, her voice even higher and smaller than it usually was. Her eyes were filled with the same kind of fear he had only seen once before. Yesterday night, in the aquamarine eyes of his beloved mother, when his father had found out about Halewyn's affair with his wife. It was a look that reflected much more than fear. It reflected pure horror, dread and defeat. Euphores tried to move, but he couldn't. It felt as if his whole body was paralyzed. Like his nerves had all gone numb in less than a split second and they had been replaced by iron strings.

"W-Why..?" The maid sat down next to the young prince and warped her arm around h shoulder. "You know why, my prince. I wish I could save you from the disaster you're about to witness, but I can't. Otherwise, the same fate will await me." She let out a loud a series of horrid sobs that seemed to slice through the prince's heart like the sharpest knives. "I-I wished I could. You shouldn't see t-this, Euphores."

"Please, E-Elena, tell m-me. What's g-going on?" The prince's heart pounded against his chest and his eyes began to feel watery. He grabbed the fabric of the maid's dress and pulled it, staring into her red-rimmed, brown eyes. She couldn't tell him. The maid started to cry, louder than Euphores had ever heard anyone before. These weren't tears of fear, he was sure. Something was about to happen, something that could even break a strong woman like Elena.

"J-Just... Just come with me, my prince. I will make sure you will be save."

On the edge of crying, Euphores followed the maid to the first floor. For once, the stone floor wasn't covered in small, colorful, moving spots that the stained glass windows reflected with some help of the sunlight. For once, the sun wasn't shining. Euphores looked out one of the windows and noticed how incredibly dark the sky was. It reminded him of an old story his mother had once told him about. About the guardians of the skies protecting the angels in heaven from the army of darkness. Whenever the sky was grey, those brave guardians were risking their lives, fighting to save the good from the evil. But somehow, thinking about the beautiful story only made the prince feel sadder. There was a strange, unfamiliar feeling hidden underneath the sadness that he felt.

Elena and Euphores made their way through the gates of the palace, arriving in the gardens, one of the prince's favorite places. He loved it when the trees blossomed, the flowers scented all nicely and the limes and apples were almost ripe enough to eat. He also loved that it was almost always quiet there. It formed a way out of the ever-crowded palace, the talkative maids and the curious guests. But today, the garden wasn't quiet. The maids and servants were yelling loudly, some even crying and sobbing.

"Cover the prince's eyes!" Some of them called out. "He's a child! Are you out of your mind?"

"What do they m-mean?" asked Euphores softly, tears rolling down his cheeks like a waterfall of pearls. He didn't even look like a prince anymore. His regal, confident look had been replaced by the terror one only sees in the eyes of a stray child that is not sure if it's ever going to find something to eat again. It cries, asking for help, but everyone ignores the poor thing, too busy to even bother.

Elena didn't reply to Euphores' question. She looked him into his dripping eyes, the green irises contrasting sharply against the red sclera, unable to find words to explain the little prince what was about to happen. There was no way for her to explain a horrific thing like that to an eleven-year-old without traumatizing him for life. He would hate her for a lifetime, fire her or even lock her up once he was older if her words would form the bridge over the river of pain.

"Bring him back inside! Make sure he won't see this!" Elena yelled on top of her lungs, completely ignoring the fact that this would bring her into danger. The queen had been her best friend. She had trusted the maid with her deepest secrets, her insecurities and darkest times. The last thing the queen would have wanted is her son to witness her cruel death, which left Elena no choice but giving her own life in exchange for the prince's safety.

But before any of the servants had even been able to take Euphores' hand, the garden resounded with a horrendous scream. The prince looked away from the maid and stared into the turquoise eyes of his mother. She buried her face into her soft, tender hands, which had been bound together with a piece of wiry rope. Next to her was her love. His eyes were closed and his limbs looked as if they were paralyzed. His feet didn't touch the floor. He hung there, motionlessly, his neck colored purple from where the tight noose had strangled him, his face red, the rest of his naked body as white as snow.

Unable to find words, paralyzed from head to toe, Euphores' eyes met his father's shining, blue eyes. Its color reminded him of the color of flames once they reached insanely high temperatures and for a second, the prince wondered if that might be what hell looked like. He wondered if the paintings had been wrong and those flames weren't orange but as blue as his father's frightening eyes.

"This..." The king started softly before bursting out in laughter. "This is called justice, son!"

Behind the queen was a masked man, dressed in midnight black. One of his bold, dirty hands held her shining blonde ponytail, the other a machete. The queen looked up and whispered something, softly, underneath her breath. Euphores could read her lips. He stared at them. 'I'm sorry, honeybee.'

The prince firmly closed his eyes. The sound of screams, cries and sobs filled his tiny ears, the loud, heartless laughter of his father ending the symphony of grief. The masked men held up the queen's severed head. Her eyes were closed. Her pink lips didn't move anymore, but Euphores swore he could still read the last words he had made out off of them.

All he did next, was scream.

 


	2. His Deathbed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, comment if you want to! :D  
> Comments make me rll happy.

Months of grief and deep sorrow followed. The prince refused to eat, to get up and to talk. All Euphores did was cry in silence while staring blankly into the distance, focusing on whatever he might see in the void of illusions inside his head. Ever since the day he had witnessed his mother's cruel death, there had been a frightening glow Euphores' forest green eyes that did not seem to belong to a child. Some of the concerned chambermaids began speculating about spirits of the dead that had taken over his young body and mind, others claimed that the traumatic experience had simply caused him to go insane. He stared at the ceiling for days and days straight, teardrops that shined like diamonds and opal stones rolling down his soft cheeks. He did not sob or move. Within weeks, his once suntanned skin had turned an unhealthy looking, white-grey colour due to the lack of sunlight and vitamins he had received.

Every day, Isidor would visit him. The king had never known that Isidor and Halewyn were related, making him believe he was just another one of his wife or son's unimportant servants, which made it possible for him to keep living in the castle after his uncle's death. In the morning, Isidor would talk softly to Euphores just to receive no answer, he'd wash the prince's pale and hollow face, brush his thinning hair and would try to feed him pieces of sweet fruits and vegetables, desperately trying to keep his friend at least a little healthy before his soul would follow his mother's to heaven. Having to get Euphores to eat was close to impossible since he was almost completely irresponsive. At night, he would read him his favorite stories or would hold him in his arms so the two of them could watch the stars together, even though Isidor knew that Euphores might not be able to see anything buy darkness.

Having to deal with the prince's sickness and his beloved uncle's death was a hard task for Isidor. Many servants didn't seem to understand that Euphores was not the only minor that had been forced to watch a family member's death and ignored all signs of disease and mental instability that Isidor showed. Every single night, when the prince's dead eyes had finally closed and he soundlessly had drifted into the dreamless night, his friend and brother-to-be would softly cry, place a good night kiss onto Euphores' forehead and leave the room of sorrow.

The king on the other hand did not seem to care much about the fact that his son's health was in such a critical situation, busy having peasants that had cheated on their partners tortured in the most cruel ways. The fact that his wife had been unfaithful to him hadn't broken the king's heart but had damaged his self-image and reputation. Euphores had always loved his mother. He had known about her love for Halewyn, Not even once, the king visited his sick child in the quiet castle tower, as if he had completely forgotten about his existence.

At the request of the worried maids, doctors, healers and nurses from all over the kingdom travelled down the frozen wasteland in the north, sailed lakes and rivers and climbed immense mountains to reach the palace. They put strangely tasting potions and mixtures into the prince's water, covered his face and chest in special ointments and stared into his glassy eyes to hypnotise him. But several weeks later, they had all given up. "He's dead already.", they would say. There was nothing that could cure the prince of the unknown illness that dominated his body, and many began to believe that demons had indeed taken over his mind. The maids no longer visited Euphores' room, scared that the spirits would soon leave the prince's body to settle down in a new, stronger one.

No matter how badly it hurt him to watch his best friend's slow death, Isidor could not leave him in that cold, dark room all by himself. He was convinced of the fact that as long as his heart hadn't stopped beating and he'd still blink every once in a while, the prince was still aware of what happened around him. He'd tell him all about his everyday life, ruefully talk to him about the way he felt inside, would describe to him how the world outside looked and would hold him close to warm up the freezing, small, bony body next to him, carefully pull him into his lap and rock him back and forth like a mother does to her child, wishing he could fill up the emptiness the prince had felt ever since the loss of his mother. He'd sing him lullabies of pure despair. He'd softly beg him to eat and wake up, with unshed tears in his narrow, golden-brown eyes and a lump in his throat.

Sometimes, the corners of Euphores' mouth seemed to curl into a half smile when Isidor touched him, although the young duke wasn't sure if this was just an illusion or a lucid hallucination. At night, he would pray to God for hours straight and wish for this all to be over. He asked Him to take good care of Euphores, to cure him, save him from this misery and turn him back into who he used to be. But as the time passed, even Isidor began to lose faith. Euphores' body had changed into a breathing and blinking skeleton that hadn't eaten a decent meal in months, silently awaiting his death in a lovely canopy bed surrounded by expensive silken cushions. He had crawled all the way through the tunnel and had almost reached the light at the end.

One silent winter night, Isidor was holding the prince's fragile body carefully to shield him from the cold, scared to break him. He could feel Euphores' ribs and spine through the fine material of his burgundy colored satin tunic, like knives that tried to stab him right into his chest. If only that metaphor would have been true, Isidor thought. It had been over 11 months since the queen and his uncle had passed away. It had been 11 months since Euphores' last screams had echoed through the garden walls. Isidor's fingers touched Euphores' sharp cheekbone and travelled down his hollow cheeks. His face had changed into a skull.

A tear rolled down Isidor's pale face, caught the moonlight and landed on one of Euphores' emerald green pillows. "Please, Euphores..." He whispered softly, placing his chin on top of the prince's head. He could feel his scalp through his dangerously thin hair. "Don't leave me. Please wake up."

Isidor interlaced his own, weak fingers with Euphores' and cried in silence, motionlessly, allowing the ice-cold winter night to take over his vulnerable body and soul. How long would this last? This phase of frightening emptiness and uncertainty about the future? How long would he have to watch the only person he still loved, the last person he would ever love, wallow in misery?

Isidor's silent cries soon turned into faint sobs. He remembered those nights, when Euphores had held him to find shelter from his father. Back when he still remembered how warmness felt. A distant memory. He remembered the feeling of Euphores' small, thin hands holding handfuls of his midnight black tresses. He tried to dig deeper into his thoughts. He could hear Euphores' voice. He could hear his laughter. Isidor smiled for a second, but was then painfully reminded of the fact he would never hear those sounds again. He gulped and tried to swallow away the sadness he felt, but he couldn't. The emotions were suffocating him, slowly strangling him. Like a pair of invisible freezing hands around his throat. He didn't fight. He let it all happen.

Choking on his own sobs, Isidor pressed his shaking hands against Euphores' rising chest. He felt his heartbeat and started sobbing louder, completely aware of the fact he would soon run out of air, but it didn't matter.

"W-Wake up." He whispered. "WAKE UP!"

Breathing heavily, Isidor pushed Euhpores' stagnant physique away from him. He didn't want to look into those nearly lifeless eyes any longer. He couldn't. It felt as if everything was pushing him down. Locks of thick, long hair stuck to his teary sweaty face. He bit his lip. "P-Please... I can't go on like this."

Isidor shifted into a somewhat comfortable position and looked up at the shimmering, silver moon in the distance, moonlit tears falling from his gleaming, golden eyes. He folded his hands, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "Oh Lord, please watch over my friend. Tend Your sick ones, Lord Christ. Bless Your dying ones." He prayed silently, wishing that his words would reach the Lord for once from the bottom of his heart. "Please soothe those that are suffering. Please give me answers, my Lord. Amen." With a sigh, Isidor's shaking hands made the sign of the cross. He touched his shoulders, forehead and heart like he had done so many times before and then looked up at the sky once again. With pain inside his heart, the teen wondered if his friend would soon join those stars up in heaven.

It was silent in the room for a long time.

"Do you want to watch the stars with me, Euphores..? They're beautiful tonight..." Isidor asked with a shaking voice. As expected, he received no response. Slowly, he turned around to lift up the prince's skinny body. To let the moonlight fall into his face now the sunlight had died out, but then and caught his breath. Isidor blinked, multiple times, in order to determine if this was another one of his utterly insane hallucinations or not. It wasn't. Euphores still laid in front of him, motionlessly. But his eyes... His eyes did not stare at the ceiling any longer. They looked right into Isidor's and a distant but visible gleam of light had returned into them.

Isidor inhaled sharply. "Euphores?"

The prince blinked. He laid still, soundlessly, his soul dancing at the edge of death, but the glow in his eyes was worth a thousand words.

"Euphores..." Isidor swiftly moved over to the other side of the bed and took both of the prince's freezing hands into his own, squeezing them gently. "Can you hear me?" He asked, while looking deeply into Euphores' green, watery eyes. Once again, the prince blinked his eyes, and a single tear rolled down the side of his face. Isidor was sure he could cry of joy if he hadn't been so stunned. Instead, he warped both of his muscular arms about Euphores' tiny body and pulled him closer, making sure his body was covered by a thick layer of warm blankets.

"Oh please, try to speak to me." Began Isidor softly, focusing on the shining eyes beside him. "Can you try that for me?"

The prince didn't blink.

"Try it, sweetheart. Say my name. Do you remember my name, Euphores?"

A moment of silence followed, as if a symbolic play, resembling the world had been paused. It was a moment of pure faith that would lead both closer teens towards their final destination. That tiny, almost meaningless sentence would change the rest of Isidor's life forever. Euphores' lovely eyes slowly filled with shining tears, that began to roll down the sides of his face only seconds later, like glowing cascades from heaven. Isidor's eyes grew in surprise. Quickly, he remembered what he had just said. "Do you remember my name?" He asked once again, causing the prince to cry even harder. He shut his eyes and grimaced in silence.

"Do you..?"

The prince's lips moved. They moved the same way the queen's lips had moved, just seconds before her life had been taken. Euphores talked, soundlessly. If Isidor hadn't paid so incredibly much attention to every single movement of his friend's face, he wouldn't even have noticed the slight movement.

Once again, Euphores shut his eyes, the rest of his bony body shaking in either fear, coldness or pain.

"Yes." He whispered. "Yes."

-

That night, Isidor didn't take his eyes off his friend for hours and hours straight, guarding him like the brave, royal knights did in the books he liked to read to the prince at night. He watched him, and listened to the words he cried, even though it was hard. All Euphores talked about was pain, anxiety and loss, as if his life had easily stopped the moment he had stopped screaming in the gardens. The prince's words brought back the frightening images Isidor had tried to banish from his mind for months. The pictures of his uncle, the blood, and the noose. Whenever Isidor tried to say something himself in order to change the subject, the prince would ignore him, as if he had lost his ability to hear. But even those horrendous stories were better than the strangling silence Isidor had lived in for almost a year.

Inside his head, Isidor thanked God, the Father, for listening to his prayers. As he looked at Euphores, he wondered if he might have lived as an angel in heaven for a year, under God's wing of protection, and had been sent back to earth once he was powerful and stable enough to take care of himself again. For a second, fear settled in Isidor's stomach, remembering the stories about fallen angels that had applied to Satan. He then shook his head. Euphores had always been an angel, and he would always be.

Holding the prince's hand, Isidor drifted into a dreamless sleep.

-

Happiness took over the entire kingdom once the news that the dead prince had revived had spread around. The royal maids and servants gave up a huge part of their salary in order to buy the prince the most wonderful gifts and the peasants, who had lived in fear under the kings strict domain for months danced and sang again. 

Three months had passed ever since the miracle had taken place, and Euphores had become stronger. Although he was still much too skinny for a boy of his age, his ribs, hip bones and spine were no longer visible and his legs were able to carry the rest of his body. His face had become less pale and hollow and his hair had become thicker. Yet, he hadn't fully changed into who he used to be back in the days yet, and almost everyone in the palace doubted that he would ever be that person again.

The death of his mother had changed Euphores from an 11-year-old into a grown man in an instant. It appeared as if all his childlike traits had vanished into thin air. As if an invisible physique had carved his heart out of his body, had squeezed the love, life, hope and tenderness out of it and had stitched the skin of his empty chest together with a shining, golden string of life, unbreakable, precious and delicate, but worthless in a situation like this.

The prince had been kind and generous before. Those traits had gone to an eternal rest and had been replaced by pure coldness by now. There were moments when it seemed like nothing had changed. When it seemed like the horrific event had never even taken place and he was still that lovely boy he had ever been, until one dared to look into those shining, forest green eyes. There was something ominous and terrifying about that shine that sent the shivers up anyone's spine.

The first time it had been clear the lovely child he had once been had changed into a cold teen had been the very first morning after the night Isidor had heard him say his first words.

"Why can't I remember anything? My memory is full of holes." Euphores had asked Isidor, and his friend had easily told him the truth. He told him he hadn't said anything in over a year, that he hadn't had enough nutrients for months which could have caused his memory loss and that the traumatic experience had hurt him so deeply that his ability to recall had easily vanished. Instead of the somewhat sad or fearful reaction Isidor had expected, the prince got insanely mad at him.

"Does that mean you have forgotten my twelfth birthday!?" Asked the prince in a lofty way. Isidor shook his head in reply. "I haven't, Euphores." He spoke, and reached out for an object in the pocket of his cloak. A pendant necklace, with beads of amber glass and a charm of yellow glass, shaped like the sun. It had been expensive, but Isidor had never attached great importance to gold or ducats. Isidor knew how much Euphores had always loved to wear his mother's jewelry, and buying a lovely gift to show him once he would wake up had made him happy. He had dreamed of the smile on the prince's face once he would hand him the wonderful necklace many times.

Isidor handed Euphores the accessory, his golden eyes shining with happy tears. The prince inspected the object, then met the shimmering eyes in front of him before throwing the pendant against the wall with force. The gift hit the wall and the beads shattered into a thousand, tiny pieces.

"I don't want a worthless gift from some guy who is not even able to respect a prince like me."

Isidor was left speechless, staring at the destroyed necklace on the floor. 

"You shall call me 'your highness' from now on. Don't you dare to ever address me with such little respect again."

Isidor abruptly turned around. "I have never called you that before. You're my friend, Euphores. Why would I-"

"I could have you tortured, Isidor." The way Euphores pronounced his name sent shivers up the older boy's spine, the undertone so sharp and ominous, almost sinister. "I could have you executed for treason. All I have to do is snap my fingers, do you understand?"

Isidor was silent. He nodded, unable to find words. He stood up, looked at his friend's annoyed features, and then left the room, his heart aching with pain. Was this how he would be rewarded for taking good care of the prince for such a long time? Was this what he had prayed and wished for?

Now, three months later, the kingdom was living in silent fear. Nothing was left of the happy mood it had been in just months ago. According to the kingdom's laws, the queen's demise gave the crown prince remarkable amount of rights, such as being able to reject suggestions for new laws or rules but also the right to have someone executed or tortured in a brutal way. From now on, each of the royal staff members that had worked for the queen would be Euphores' personal property. These rights struck fear not only into the hearts of the maids and servants inside the palace but also into those of the peasants that lived in the villages and towns downhill.

A part of Euphores had died with his mother.

And soon, a part of Isidor would too.


End file.
